


Breaking Free

by LittleLover11



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Abuse, Death, F/M, Love, Pain, Prison, Romance, Strenght, Wentworth Miller - Freeform, prision break, strong woman, woman freedom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLover11/pseuds/LittleLover11





	Breaking Free

The name is Amanda. Amanda Montgomery. Might have heard of me, but I doubt it. You were too busy skipping my front page article in the New York Times. I did not kill Rebecca Lopez, but I was framed by her father because I refused to sleep with him. There are multiple reasons I wouldn’t sleep with him.

  1. I was a minor at that time, and sixteen to be exact
  2. He was married to his wife Anna who was my teacher
  3. Not my type at all. Too strict and tight
  4. I was friends with Rebecca his daughter
  5. I am a Christian with morals



She and I have known each other since the sixth grade when the same boy cheated on us. We worked collaboratively to dump his sorry little ass. Well, we shoved him over the balcony to a ten-foot drop into the deep end of the pool. He was fine, but he had a serious red mark from the impact of the water on his back.

Today I was in the yard with all the guys. There were no females here, except me. I wanted to go to this prison in particular because it got a nice view of the city.  This prison has never been broken out of before either, and I was okay with that. I was perfectly fine being here as long as now one messed with me. Last week I put a guy in the hospital wing for trying to touch me. Like, um, can you please not touch me.

I ended up becoming really good friends with the nurses at the prison. They’d help way too much when I would become a punching bag for the guys. A girl in a prison of guys could be the worst thing to happen to a girl. Higher chances of rape, abuse, and death. That is another reason I took it because I like to live life on the edge a little bit. Well, despite the fact that I am Christian I don’t do sexual or immoral stuff. I’m proud to still say that I am a virgin. Haven’t done anything or see anything (that doesn’t count the diagrams in Health Class).

I was outside in the yard today. Not really my favorite places to be since death and war seem to have their little horse races here. I watched as a guy took mental notes of the people and the surroundings here at the prison. He was newer here, and you could tell based on his look of innocence. I walked closer to him and his new prison mates not truly paying any attention to them. 

“I'm looking for someone.” The new guy stated, “A guy named Lincoln Burrows.”   
  
“Linc the Sink?” Wholesale asked.

Wholesale was a friend of Fernando. They both were creepy perverts who I never really messed around with because if I got anywhere near them they swatted my butt, and each time they did I gave them bloody noses. That should teach them to never mess with a girl.

Lincoln Burrows? Why would the new guy be looking for the guy who killed the Vice President’s brother? Did he want his autograph? I listed in furthermore to their conversation to see if I could get any more information on the new guy.   
  
“That what they're calling him now?”

It sounded like this new guy knew Lincoln personally. I’ve talked to Lincoln here and there mainly at church. Our conversations are always short, but they are always worth it. I believe that   
  
“Yeah.” Wholesale said, “As in he'll come at you with everything but the kitchen, snowflake.”

The new guy’s nickname was Snowflake. Nice. It fit him perfectly in my opinion. He seemed like a cool, chill, relaxed laid back guy. Someone who would just be willing to talk to you, but then again it looked like he wore a heavy burden on his shoulders for the time being.   
  
“Where can I find him?” The new guy asked.

I walked away before anyone could get suspicious of me. I growled when I heard Secre talking about me softly to himself. Didn’t he have a girlfriend at home? Didn’t he realize that he was a deadbeat to me? I know I am supposed to love everyone, but his crime is so strong I don’t give a crap about my Christian morals. It was like saying I love Hitler or something.

Dinner time came way too quickly as the day passed. The usual slob of a meal, and riots between the clans of people. I usually sat on the left edge of the cafeteria away from all the craziness since I was a girl and I was in a prison of basically all guys. This time I chose differently. This time I was going to sit with Snowflake and Fernando. 

As I received my pile of slop I looked over to see Fernando checking me out. My eyes moved from him and Snowflake to the lunch lady who smiled sweetly at me. I shook my head as she wished me luck like she always did. She was always so sweet about everything which was what I liked about have her as the lunch lady, even though she served breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  
“Hello, Señortia.” Fernando smiled at me.

I scowled back angrily in Spanish, “Fernando usted está perverto.”

  
What I said roughly translated to Fernando you are perverted, but I never took a class of Spanish in High School, but I did take English. Well, who doesn’t? My eyes searched for the table. The new guy’s eyes were attentively trained on me. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes like a hawk.

“Since when did you start to speak Spanish?”

I looked at him and gave him the coldest glare I could give to a person. He shriveled down into his seat, but then I motioned for him to quickly leave or something bad was going to happen. I would never hurt a person, but I knew people who would hurt people. Fernando made a small quick run out of the area to where ever he was going. I didn’t care where he was going, but all I cared about was that he was as far away from me as possible.

“Who are you?” I asked the new guy.

“Michael.

” He extended his hand, “Michael Scofield.”

I smiled, “Well, Michael you seem different.”   


Michael tilted his head staring at me as he tried to figure something out. It seemed like to me that this man was a man who thought of puzzles and complicated things for a very very long time.  The type of person who was smart enough to construct a maze to lock all the criminals in for eternity. Then again, he could be a psycho who wasn’t put into a psych ward. 

“How so?” He asked intrigued by what I had to say.

I searched Michael’s eyes for anything that would make him hate me because that was the last thing I wanted in life. I needed people to have me on their positive side, and he didn’t look like a criminal that I needed to hate in some way, shape, or form.

“Like you’re not a criminal. Like you’ve been blamed for a crime you didn’t do. Happened to me.”

“How?” He pulled his seat closer to me to heard the story.

I looked around because I had never truly told any of the other inmates about my story. It just was something that never came up in past conversations. It gave the other inmates a sense of fear not really knowing who I am. It was the type of thing I needed in this world, but then again was it? A sense of fear from people to me? It could very well be the last thing that I needed from someone.

“My friend’s father wanted me to sleep with him,” I stated, “and I told him no. He killed his daughter while fighting one night, and staged it on me.”

I felt like crying for some odd reason. To break down all the walls that I had built and to leave me alone with just the floor and a crumbled ceiling around me. I didn’t want this at all, but this was what I was going to get. Nothing more if I cried, so I had to be strong. I had to be the strong person here, but then what if I was wasn’t and it was all just for show?

I quickly ate a spoon of slop, “You know there is a lot to tell about everything and everyone, but I can tell you're innocent.”

“How so?” I smiled as I picked up another small spoonful of slop.

I looked around at Michael. Short hair, snarky voice, greenish blue eyes, cold relaxed personality, and he was hiding secrets. I was usually a good people reader, but something about this guy was off. Like he was hiding his whole life from me, and or the secret of a thousand people laid on his shoulders. He’d seen as well as been through hell. As I chewed my slab of whatever I watched him like a hawk, and so did he. We were having a staring contest together, and there was no breaking it. His eyes were searching me for something as I searched him. We ate in silence in the noisy room, which could have been a good thing.

“I arrived yesterday and watched a man get stabbed.” He continued, “You were sitting in your cell not caring about the man, but singing a soft tune to yourself.”

“I want out of here,” I kept a little suspense, “but I won’t ever get out of here.”

Michael chuckled to himself making the ambiance of the whole situation grow like the forest fire of 1988 in Yellowstone National Park. He wasn’t evil but he was simply playing the role of a criminal that was handed to him. The only question was what was he doing at Fox River?

“I want out of here as well,” He said, “but I have awhile in here.”

I nodded as I looked down at what food I had left, “Yeah.”

I mentally slapped myself as I realized something. I had forgotten to tell Michael my name. What kind of person was I to forget to tell someone my name? I never did that, but something I am telling you about Michael had me thrown off. It was like the man had me under a trance or something.

“I didn’t tell you my name I’m-”

“Amanda.” He smiled at me, “I know. Been watching you.”

I blushed for some odd reason, “Really?”

Michael returned a blush back to me. Which was weird for me, because I didn’t know that men could blush. Maybe it was one of those natural human things like going to the bathroom or speaking. 

“The only female here,” His eyes danced from me to around the room, “except for those on staff.”

“I live on the edge.” I claimed, “I live for danger.”

“But how did they allow,” Michael looked around as if he was telling a secret or something, “a female into a prison of all men.”

My hands dropped the metal spoon that was in my hands to the tray with a loud crashing sound. They were shaking violently when I got a sense of danger. Michael I think was somehow triggering that sense of danger.

I shrugged as I said that, “I requested it.”

“But why?” He asked me.

The alarms and buzzers and bells or whatever went off. Dinner was over sadly enough. I told Michael goodnight and wandered off to my orders. I roomed by myself which was perfectly fine with me. I also I had a lock on my door in case of emergencies that would lock me in my cell someone could get to me.

As my cell locked I was safe and sound. I looked down to see Michael’s cell and him looking up at me. He smiled hesitantly at me, and then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. I softly hummed a poem to myself that meant a lot to me for some odd reason.

“Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.”

It was the poem by Robert Frost that had to be addicted to it. Snowflake over there looked to be the one who would care for the destruction of the world in ice with his cool attitude, and I would rather see the world burn because that was how I saw the end.


End file.
